“This looks like a lot of muffins.”
“I’m going to take some to the nursing home.”
Rose’s smile reappeared. “You do have a heart.”
The teenager hopped onto a stool at the counter and pulled the kitten out of her pocket. Laurel looked up from mixing the dry ingredients in with the wet.
“Kittens do not go on counters,” she said as she picked it up. “Have you fed it?”
“It’s a she, not an it.” Rose plucked the kitten from Laurel’s hand. “And yes, I fed her. And I fed the dog, too.”
“The stray?”
“It’s still a dog and deserves to be fed. But I think the kitten is too young to eat the dry cat food. She cried all night.” She grabbed the milk jug and poured milk in a saucer.
Laurel looked up from filling the muffin cups. She studied the kitten and then the girl. Rose’s eyes were puffy, her nose red. She thought maybe the kitten hadn’t been the only one crying all night. With limited kid and kitten experience, she didn’t know if she should say something, ask if she was okay or pretend she didn’t notice.
She thought about what her mother would have done in this situation. She should call her mom. They’d had a brief conversation her first night here, very brief. Laurel had asked about Curt Jackson and then she’d been too upset to finish talking to her mother, the person she’d always been able to talk to.
“What do you think is wrong with her?” Laurel asked.
“Misses her mom.” She shoved the kitten back in her pocket. “She wants her family.”
“She won’t fit in your pocket much longer.”
“I know, but for now she does and she likes it. I think because it’s warm. Anyway, she has to go back to her mother. I don’t think she can wait until I get home from school.”
“What’s your suggestion?”
“You could take her up to the barn.”
Laurel slid the muffin tin into the oven and set the timer. “Me? I’m not the one who took her from her mother.”
Rose glared.
“All right, I’ll take the kitten to her mother.” Laurel leaned against the counter. “But I’m sure she’s happy with you, too. She knows you love her.”
“Don’t,” Rose warned. “I already have a therapist. I don’t need to be analyzed by you.”
“Oh.” Laurel didn’t know what to say.
“Sometimes I miss my mom. She was a bad parent but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her or that she didn’t love me. I can miss her. I learned that from my therapist. I can especially miss her at Christmas, even though she never really did anything Christmassy. I really want to decorate a tree.”
Laurel gave Rose a minute to collect herself. She poured the girl a glass of milk, checked the muffins in the oven and returned to continue the conversation.
“I’ll see if I can find the tree. And I’ll take the kitten over to her mother in the barn. And I know it isn’t easy, missing someone.”
She’d never known her dad, but she’d always missed him.
“Yeah, okay.” Rose buried her nose in the kitten’s soft fur. “Those muffins almost ready? Maybe you could take Cam a couple and ask if he knows where the tree is?”
“Cam?”
“Cameron. You know, the guy that lives in the cottage.”
“Yes, I know who he is.”
“He might know where the tree is. Maybe if you take him food, you can ask.”
“If I see him, I’ll ask him.”
From the road she heard a car honk. She hurried to the front of the house in time to spot the school bus slowing. She started to yell for Rose but the girl already had her backpack thrown over her shoulder as she was running out the door, waving as she ran down the drive.
“The kitten is on the kitchen floor,” Rose yelled back to her. “I’ll have muffins for a snack after school.”
“I was going to drive you,” Laurel called out, but it was too late. She closed the door and then leaned against it. “This can’t be my life.”
From the kitchen she heard a small mew and then the timer on the stove beeped. She removed the muffins from the oven and picked up the kitten. The tiny gray feline purred and nuzzled against her.
“You do need your mommy, don’t you? Let’s go see if we can find her.” She would take the kitten back and ask about the tree.
As she approached the building, she heard music. She slowed, taking cautious steps forward. What she was hearing wasn’t coming from the radio. The strumming of the guitar was soft and the words of the song muffled. She leaned in closer, trying to catch the words of the song. For several minutes she stood listening. The music grew louder, then boot steps shuffled.
“Are you enjoying the concert?”
She jumped. Cameron Hunter stood in the doorway of the stable, a tall and imposing figure with his black cowboy hat pulled low and a flannel jacket over a dark T-shirt. A guitar hung from the strap around his neck. Her first instinct was to make an excuse or deny that she’d been listening. But, of course, he knew the truth. A person lurking outside a barn was obviously a person up to something.
She said the first thing to pop into her head. “I’m looking for a Christmas tree.”
“Out here?” he asked, a half grin tugging at his mouth. He looked around and shrugged. “I think I’d look somewhere else. Unless you’re planning to cut one down.”
“No, of course not. I promised Rose I would ask. I also had to bring the kitten back to her mother. Have you seen the mama cat?”
“She was lurking in corners. Sound familiar?”
Laurel rolled her eyes at the accusation. “I wasn’t lurking, I was listening to your music. You’re very good.”
“Thank you. And the mother cat is in the far stall with her kittens. I think she’ll be glad to see that one. She’s been looking for her.”
“Yes, Rose realized she took her away from her family too soon.”
He motioned her to the end of the barn. “I think Rose wants something of her own. Even if it’s just a kitten. Having a pet is a sign of permanence.”
Of course, that made perfect sense. She’d been so immersed in her own thoughts, feeling sorry for herself, she hadn’t thought about Rose. She might be Trouble with a capital T, but she was also a child whose mother was missing and her only real stability was an elderly woman in a nursing home.
“She seemed sad this morning,” Laurel noted as she walked through the door of the stall to find the mother cat with the rest of the litter.
He paused at that. “I can imagine. She’s lost everyone, and even though Gladys isn’t going anywhere, I could see that it would worry Rose.”
“Do you know where her mother is?” Laurel asked.
“No one knows. Family Services has tried to locate her but she hasn’t made contact in six months. She left Rose on a friend’s couch and took off, supposedly for California.”
“That’s tough. Poor Rose.”
“Yeah, it is. But Rose is also tough.” He leaned on the stall door to watch as the kitten reunited with her mother. The orange, black and white calico immediately curled up with her baby and began to give the gray kitten a good bath.
“Oh, I brought muffins.” Laurel handed him the bag she’d carried from the house. “Rose said I’m required to feed you.”
“You’re not, but thank you.” He took the bag and opened it.
She backed away and as she did, he gave her his right side. Did he do it consciously, to make people more at ease? Or was it habit? She started to ask but then didn’t. They weren’t friends. They were barely acquaintances. She didn’t have a right to know his stories. And yet she couldn’t walk away.
“I’m going to see my grandmother. I promised to bring her lunch.”
His fingers, long and slim, suntanned from time working outside, strummed the guitar. She wat
ched, mesmerized.
“I considered visiting her this afternoon. She made me feel guilty the other day. I should visit more often.”
“I’m sure she understands.”
“I’ll give you a ride if you think you’ll be ready by eleven,” he continued. The offer took her by surprise.
“Oh, that would be good.”
“We can’t have you getting lost.” He winked and she thought he had no idea how lost he could make a girl feel. It had nothing to do with a malfunctioning GPS or a not-so-helpful teen.
Maybe it was just that he had that unavailable vibe and every girl liked a challenge. Every girl but her. She didn’t want to conquer the walls he’d obviously constructed to protect himself. She didn’t want to know all of his secrets and heal his brokenness. She would leave that for some romantic soul out there waiting to fix a broken man and call him her own.
Laurel wasn’t that person. She was here for a week or so, just long enough to make sure her grandmother was okay.
“I’ll be ready to go by eleven,” she told him as she walked away, totally unaffected.
At least that’s what she told herself.
* * *
Cameron had been surprised that Laurel took him up on his offer to give her a ride to Lakeside Manor to visit Gladys. He should have been more surprised with himself for offering. As he stepped out into the hall of the nursing home in order to give Laurel time alone with her grandmother, he realized he’d fallen into Gladys’s plans, the ones that ultimately dragged him into her granddaughter’s life. He had to give it to her, she was good at meddling.
As he left the room, he heard Laurel telling Gladys that she couldn’t stay in town more than two weeks. She had signed up to start classes in January. She was going to be a teacher. Reinventing herself, Gladys had said, almost approvingly.
He didn’t get it. He didn’t want to reinvent himself; he just wanted to find a way to live the life he already had. He’d spent the better part of two years figuring it out. He’d spent a lot of that time alone. As Gladys liked to say, “licking his wounds.” He couldn’t disagree.
A lot had changed in his life. Too much. And it went beyond his injuries. He’d lost his dad. The family ranch had been sold because Cameron and his siblings hadn’t wanted to return to the place where they’d spent their childhood years working long hours side by side with their father rather than doing what other kids their age had been doing—movies on Friday nights and swimming on weekends.
The sale of the ranch had given them all the freedom to make their own choices. His choice was to stay in Hope, raise horses and live his life exactly the way he wanted.
He bought a soda from a vending machine and headed back to Gladys’s room.
Gladys waved him in, a smile of greeting quick to replace the frown she’d worn when he stepped through the door. If he had to guess, they’d been discussing Curt Jackson. Laurel stood at the window, her back to him. The light cast her in silhouette but didn’t hide the fact that she surreptitiously swiped her hand over her cheek.
“Did Laurel ask about your Christmas tree?” he asked. “Rose wants to put up a tree.”
“Christmas tree?” Gladys shook her head. “I don’t have an artificial tree. I usually buy one in town. Laurel, you’ll have to get a tree for Rose to decorate. I think she hasn’t had much of a Christmas the past few years. Probably ever, if I had to guess. Get one of the trees that are in planters, so we can replant it after the holidays.”
“I’ll take Laurel by the feed store,” Cameron offered. “We can put the tree in the back of my truck.”
Gladys gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Well, now, isn’t that nice of you.”
“I usually am nice,” he reminded. “And it isn’t as if Laurel can put a tree in her car, can she?”
“It’s just... You usually avoid town like the plague. But since you’re being so nice, you can make sure Rose gets to church on Sunday, too.”
Cam frowned. “I think I’ve just been set up.”
“It’s important to Rose,” Gladys insisted. “She’s so excited about being in the Christmas program. There are also a couple of programs at school that she will attend. Now you have to make sure you ask because she’s so used to not being able to do those things that she’ll probably just assume that no one is interested in going or taking her.”
“I’ll make sure she gets to church and I’ll take her to the school programs,” Laurel assured her grandmother. “I won’t let you down.”
Gladys patted her hand. “I know you won’t. And now, the two of you should go. I need a nap.”
Once they were outside, Laurel turned to him. “You don’t have to take me to get a tree.”
Walking toward his truck, she was on his left side. He slowed, and with his hands on her arms, he guided her to his right side.
“I like to see the person I’m talking to and I don’t like walking with my head constantly turned to the left.”
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
“There’s no reason you should have. I just thought I’d let you know.”
When they reached his truck, he opened the door for her. She looked surprised by the gesture. “Do men in Chicago not open doors for women?” he asked.
“I’m sure they do. I just haven’t met any of those men.”
“Well, now you’ve met one.” He closed the door, needing that solid piece of metal between them.
He counted to ten, then got in behind the wheel. “I don’t mind taking you to get the tree but do you think we should wait till after school and let Rose help pick it out?”
“That sounds great, except I’m starving.”
He started his truck. “We can have lunch at the café in Hope.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He glanced her way before pulling from his parking space. “I don’t mind.”
“I think you do.”
He sighed. “I think you like to argue. This back and forth is making me dizzy.”
She laughed. “I guess maybe I do like to argue. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m making you do this.”
They drove in silence for several minutes before he responded. “It’s okay to be pushed from my comfort zone. When I moved into the cottage at Gladys’s, I knew she’d push. It’s her nature. She pushes herself and everyone around her.”
“Yes, she certainly is a force to be reckoned with. And now you have Rose.”
“Capital T,” he reminded her. “And she is a force. But so are you.”
Surprise flickered through her hazel eyes. “Me? I’m not a force.”
He laughed at her. “Oh, you’re a force, all right. Kittens, Christmas trees, trips to the nursing home.”
“I’m not making you do any of those things,” she reminded him.
How well he knew that. The problem was that she didn’t have to force him out of his den—he came willingly for her. He used his music to soothe his horses or to gentle an unexpectedly shy or difficult animal. She was his music.
That was probably the most dangerous thought he’d had in a long time.
Chapter Five
When they walked through the door of Holly’s Café, all eyes turned in their direction. It was unconscious but she sidled in close to Cameron’s side, where it felt safe from prying eyes and questioning gazes. Once she was next to him, she realized she liked how it felt there, at his side. It felt more than safe, it felt strangely right.
A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes hurried their way. “Cameron Hunt, it’s been months! What’s brought you out for lunch? And who’s your friend?”
“Holly, this is Laurel Adams, Gladys’s granddaughter.”
“Laurel Adams. Oh, my goodness. We went to school together.”
Laurel had to think back more than twenty year
s, to Mrs. Parker’s third grade class, then she remembered. Dark-haired, dark-eyed and with a home life less than perfect. The two had been the class misfits—and best friends.
“I do remember!” she said. “It’s been a long time, Holly.”
“It has. Come on in and I’ll give you two my best table.” Holly laughed. “As you can see, it’s past the lunch-hour rush. The crowd that’s here now are all just big gossips taking up space and drinking my coffee.”
Cameron had stopped to talk to a group of men at a big table for ten. One older gentleman, with graying hair, stubbled cheeks and a strong jaw, looked from Cameron to Laurel and back to Cameron. A sly look entered his eyes.
“For a man escorting a pretty woman, you sure look down in the mouth,” the man said, a faint tremor in his voice. “I’m guessing this is Gladys’s granddaughter, Laurel. I remember her from when she and her mother lived in Hope.”
Cameron sighed and pulled her to his right side again. “Laurel, this charming gentleman is Jack West.”
Laurel reached for his extended but trembling hand. “Mr. West, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s good to have you back in the area. I hope you’ll stay awhile.” He released her hand. “The two of you should join us. It isn’t often we get Cameron to town and I’m curious as to what he has on his mind.”
They sat opposite Jack West and introductions were made. Laurel tried to catch the names of all the men at the table. Two were obviously Jack’s sons, the others lived and worked on Mercy Ranch.
Holly handed them menus and filled coffee cups. Jack tapped his cup. “And by the way, I heard you call us gossips, Holly,” he told the café owner.
She filled his cup, then stirred in a spoon of sugar for him. “You know I was only telling the truth.”
Jack West laughed. “I guess it might have been at that. Go ahead and put their order on my tab.”
“How’s Gladys doing?” Jack asked Laurel.
“Good,” she said. “She’s scheduled to be out the day after Christmas but I have a feeling she’ll try to get home sooner.”
Western Christmas Wishes Page 4